Petra to Persia

Pilgrims come from many lands
To traipse across the ancient sands.
They feel the air, and breathe in sounds,
From times long gone but still abounds.

Jerash, a ruined Roman city, once so fine,
Dotted with temples to the Gods divine,
Now tumbled into chaotic blocks of marble,
Some partially rebuilt to recreate past fable.

Petra, the rose-red city half as old as time,
Lit by a thousand candles in an atmosphere sublime,
To walk its Siq under a starry sky
Gives rise to a wonder one cannot deny.

Prisoner of War

My brother Gooza (Leslie) and I joined the army in 1940. At first we camped in the horse stalls at Caulfield Racecourse, then were shifted to Mount Martha, where we camped in tents, and later we shifted to a new camp called Darley, outside of Bacchus Marsh. There were many other service men for our town, seven of whom didn't come home. Some women enrolled in the Ladies section too.